I'm Free
by Kitsanken
Summary: Why did it all go wrong? When did it all go wrong? He has a vague sense that he isn’t where he’s supposed to be, that he’s being held by invisible bonds that he cannot see. (Full Summary Inside)
1. Prologue

**Trigun**** Fanfic**

**_Summary: _ **_Why did it all go wrong? When did it all go wrong? He has a vague sense that he isn't where he's supposed to be, that he's being held by invisible bonds that he cannot see. Great sadness engulfs him as he looks upon the glowing bulbs and one thought reigns in his mind as he looks at the people looking back at him: You can't take me! I'm free!_**  
**

_Trigun__ © Yasuhiro Nightow Shonen Gaho-sha Tokuma Shoten JVC Pioneer Entertainment (USA) Inc._

_The following fan fiction was written by me (Chiruken) and is intended for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale._

**I'm Free**

By Chiruken

**Prologue**

**On Board Project SEEDS, 132 Years Ago:**

He was excited. He could barely contain the sense of elation thrumming through his body as he approached the familiar doors. Skidding to a halt, he bent forward, resting his hands on his knees and gasped to catch his breath. Shaking his head ruefully, he laughed breathlessly at himself. He'd run the whole distance from one end of the ship to the other, unable to wait even the few minutes that merely walking would have added to the time between then and now. Straightening, he looked around, blue eyes wide and bright with excitement, lips curved upwards into a happy grin. He was alone, the others having not caught up to him yet. Turning back to the large double doors he bounced on the balls of his feet, impatient to enter, yet also knowing that he'd be in a lot of trouble for doing so unsupervised. Glancing over his shoulder once again, he clasped his hands behind his back and bit his lip in indecision before facing front again. Finally coming to a decision, he reached out and pressed his palm flat against the control panel set in the wall beside the doors. The next instant the doors swooshed open and cool air rushed out to meet him, brushing against his cheeks and causing his breath to form tiny puffs before his face. He just couldn't wait anymore and rushed inside, the doors sliding closed with a nearly inaudible whoosh.

This was, by far, his favourite place on the ship…even more so than the lush greenery of the Recreation Room he spent so much time in with his brother and their surrogate mother. Staring with wide-eyed wonder at the rows upon rows of capsules walked slowly, his steps echoing in the quiet of the room. Looking from side to side, he studied the faces that were visible through the clear, glass-like encasings of the pods, ignoring the chill in the air. Stopping at a computer console, he looked over his shoulder again towards the door before seating himself in the comfortable chair. Within moments his face was illuminated by the glow emanating from the screen as he stared at it intently. There were so many people, thousands of names listed, yet he spent as much time as he could perusing each and every file, memorizing the data spread before him. His goal was quite simple, to his young mind at least…he wanted to know every one of the people who were currently placed in cold sleep. He wanted to be able to greet each and every person by name when they finally arrived at their final destination.

His brother was skeptical, not entirely convinced that they could be friends with everyone. But he was hopeful. He felt very strongly that no matter what the differences between them, they would somehow be able to understand each other and live together in peace and happiness. Absently tugging on his long, pale blond hair, he frowned thoughtfully as he studied the pictures in the profiles on the screen. So many faces, so many different expressions. To him, they were all beautiful…fascinating…and representatives of hope and the will to survive.

The doors opened with a soft shushing sound, but he was too engrossed in his perusal of the screen and his own imaginings to notice. It wasn't until he felt something being laid across his shoulders that he became aware that he was no longer alone. Looking up in surprise, he smiled brightly at the woman looking down at him indulgently. It wasn't until he slipped his arms into the coat she brought for him that he realized how cold he actually was. "Thanks, Rem." Her only response was to lean down and hug him before straightening to ruffle his hair affectionately. Squirming, he frowned up at her and smoothed his hands over his messed hair. The frown didn't last long, however, and was almost immediately replaced with another of his bright smiles. Facing forward again, he rested his elbows on the console, lacing his fingers together before lower his chin to rest on his hands. "Hey…Rem…" He didn't take his eyes off the screen as he spoke quietly. "When can we meet them?"

Kneeling, she placed one arm along the back the chair and leaned forward with a smile. "It won't be for some time yet, I'm afraid." Seeing his disappointed look she lowered her arm to hug him close to her side. "Don't make such a face." She laughed softly and rested her cheek against the top of his head. "We need to find a suitable place to make our new home, first."

Sighing, he nodded slowly before reaching forward to blank the screen. "I know. But still…I really wish I could meet at least some of them."

Smiling indulgently again, she straightened and stood. "All in good time, I promise." Leaning one hip against the console, she folded her arms across her chest. "Now…what have I told you about coming in here?" She raised one eyebrow when he looked away, avoiding her direct gaze.

"I know, Rem, and I'm sorry. I just couldn't wait, that's all." He squirmed in his chair before slowly raising his gaze to meet hers. She was still smiling which meant he wasn't in too much trouble.

Shaking her head with a soft laugh she stood straight and nodded towards the door. "Let's go the Recreation Room and have lunch, all right?"

Nodding happily, he swiveled the chair around and hopped off to the floor, running towards the doors. Pausing to look back at her he grinned. "Come on, Rem! Hurry!"

"Ahh…always in such a hurry."

**»»¤««**


	2. Chapter 1

**Trigun**** Fanfic**

**_Summary:_**_ Why did it all go wrong? When did it all go wrong? He has a vague sense that he isn't where he's supposed to be, that he's being held by invisible bonds that he cannot see. Great sadness engulfs him as he looks upon the glowing bulbs and one thought reigns in his mind as he looks at the people looking back at him: You can't take me! I'm free!_

_Trigun__ © Yasuhiro Nightow Shonen Gaho-sha Tokuma Shoten JVC Pioneer Entertainment (USA) Inc._

_The following fan fiction was written by me (Chiruken) and is intended for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale._

**I'm Free**

By Chiruken

**Chapter 1**

**Gunsmoke****, Present Day:**

He was floating. It was if his mind had been detached from his body and he was now a distant observer. He was aware, in a distant part of his mind, of pain, yet it was merely a dim flicker at the edge of his awareness. Memories drifted in and out of his consciousness, seemingly unconnected events leading from one to another, a strange kaleidoscope of images blurring from one to another, the colours soft and muted with the passage of time.

Above it all, beyond the limited scope of his consciousness, looming up to consume every last minute piece of what was left of him, the pain remained, growing, blossoming, becoming all encompassing. And with the pain more memories resurfaced…memories of another time and a different pain. The sense of betrayal flared for a moment within him before quieting as the sharp stabbing agony blazed, chasing all other conscious thought from his dazed mind for what felt almost like an eternity.

Distorted sounds penetrated the fog clouding his mind in disjointed pieces, voices he didn't recognize, words he couldn't understand. Rising and falling pitches, tones both melodious and discordant, the sounds washed over him, through him, became a part of him. Words and phrases that had no meaning, yet somehow meant everything. Part of him wished that he could focus enough to understand what was being said, while another part cringed away from that very same understanding. He didn't want to know, yet at the same time he knew that it was very important that he did.

He was both warm and cold, alternating in temperatures constantly. Shivering one moment and bringing mind numbing pain followed immediately by the sensation of blistering heat that seared his entire body with agony. And through it all, round and round through his mind, odd memories resurfaced that brought no understanding and served only to confuse him further. Flashes of light, muffled words, the repeating report of gunfire, and red…so much red that he cringed away from it, pushing the memories away in desperation with remembered pain of that seared further than the mere physical hurt he constantly experienced while floating in the darkness.

He was floating in vast amounts of blue interspersed with green with white streaks flowing outwards, above him, below him, surrounding him as he twisted and turned within his own nightmarish thoughts that couldn't seem to focus on any one thing. Soft, springy greenness cushioned while the blue hovered just above him, out of reach. Melodies with no tune and no voice soothed him, whispering sounds felt more than heard spoke of ageless promises of peace. Yet through it all, a discordant note hovered, just beyond his awareness, circling menacingly, stalking him, hunting him, slowly, inexorably approaching until he could feel its shadow everywhere.

For a moment he felt something else, something other than the lush green that had been beneath him. Instead of cool, fragrant greenness he could feel something firm and unyielding, pressing against him in places that brought pain again. Above him, he could sense something light and soft, both warm and cool all at once, weighing him down and pinning his limbs to the lumpy mass beneath him. He thought, dimly, that he much preferred the green and blue place to where he was now, though here he couldn't sense the lingering shadows as strongly as before. He was caught between the desire to return to the green place with its discordant notes and terrifying encroaching darkness and staying where he was now, a place too warm, too harsh, with no melodies and so much pain that he quivered with the agony of it all. Yet here, the shadows couldn't reach him, this he knew instinctively. But despite knowing this he was still tempted to leave it behind again to escape from the pain wracking his body.

There was something he needed to know, something of vast importance, yet he couldn't quite grasp what it was. The more he chased it around through his pain-clouded mind, the more it eluded him. Frustrated, he followed, reaching out with mental fingers to grasp at it only to have it slip further away. Once again he could almost feel a warm wind brushing against him, rifling through his hair, tugging insistently at his clothing. Everything was so bright it hurt his eyes, though they remained closed. It was a memory, he knew. Yet, though he knew this, he was still drawn into it as if it were reality and not something from the past. Bright blue, muted beige, vibrant green…it all surrounded him, drew him closer to discovery. Then there was red, again, so much red that he felt a scream bubbling up, choking him, terrifying in its intensity. He decided at that moment, in a detached way that usually came to the dreaming mind, that he hated that colour. He hated red with every fiber of his being and if he never saw it again it would be much too soon for him. The scent of smoke and gunpowder assailed his senses, the acrid odor stinging his eyes and nose, filling his mouth, working its way through his pores to become a part of him. He fought against it, twisting and turning in the darkness of his mind to escape from it. And through it all, through all the discomfort, he felt a growing sense of hysteria, knowing instinctively that it was the red, the scent, the heat that was causing him so much pain that it was nearly impossible to focus on anything at any given moment and no matter what he did he couldn't escape from it. He turned and it followed. He pushed it away only to have it bounce right back to him, closer than ever.

He ached as he floated, hovering just beneath the awareness of awakening, fighting against the darkness suffocating him, yet also twisting around within his thoughts, striving to remain in the soft cushioning of unconsciousness lest the pain burning through him, branding him, intensified, driving him mad from the agony. One way led to terrors unimaginable, the darkness reaching shadowy, skeletal finger towards him, grasping, clawing, dragging him into a spiraling abyss of despair and hopelessness. The other way threw him into the rising and falling tide of bone-jarring, mind-numbing pain that was wracking his entire body, the discomfort of heat and being weighted down, shoved against the lumpy mass beneath his battered body. He splintered and reformed seemingly at random, disjointed thoughts swirling through his fogged mind of love and peace, spiders and butterflies, regret and joy, pain and comfort, laughter and tears. He screamed and knew that no one could hear it. He thought perhaps he was dead, yet part of him scoffed, knowing that death was not possible, not when so much pain assailed him from every direction. His body ached, his mind trembled, and his soul wept. _No_, he decided mutely, the thought strangely echoing in the darkness consuming him. _I can't be dead. The dead can't feel._

**»»¤««**

**_Author's Notes:_**

**_Thank you for reading and reviewing:_**

**_hope-is-4ever_**


	3. Chapter 2

**Trigun**** Fanfic**

**_Summary:_**_ Why did it all go wrong? When did it all go wrong? He has a vague sense that he isn't where he's supposed to be, that he's being held by invisible bonds that he cannot see. Great sadness engulfs him as he looks upon the glowing bulbs and one thought reigns in his mind as he looks at the people looking back at him: You can't take me! I'm free!_

_Trigun__ © Yasuhiro Nightow Shonen Gaho-sha Tokuma Shoten JVC Pioneer Entertainment (USA) Inc._

_The following fan fiction was written by me (Chiruken) and is intended for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale._

**I'm Free**

By Chiruken

**Chapter 2**

**On Board Project SEEDS, 132 Years Ago:**

He studied the files opened before him on the glowing screen with a frown of intense concentration. This wasn't the same as memorizing data about people he would meet someday. No, this wasn't like that at all. With a slight grimace he forced his mind to stop wandering and focused once again on the information marching across the screen. "This…" He murmured softly, casting a furtive glance over his shoulder at the man and woman sitting at a table behind him drinking coffee. "This is boring." He finished with a sigh. Shaking his head, he returned to reading, studying the diagrams of mechanical schematics and wishing that he was anywhere but where he was currently. Leaning to the side, he peered around the monitor to where his brother was sitting studying at another computer. He chose that moment to look up and made a face at him, causing giggles to bubble up that he hastily stifled. At least he wasn't the only one who was bored with the subject matter they were instructed to study.

Still, there was an odd beauty in the diagrams he was currently looking at. The lines were perfectly formed, intersecting at symmetrical angles that were pleasing to the eye. Tilting his head to the side, he marveled at the images. Not only were these things beautiful to look at, they were also useful. He rather liked that combination, actually. Beauty and functionality…a perfect amalgamation of aesthetic utility. Leaning forward to prop his elbows on the desk, he steepled his fingers and lightly rested his chin on them, blue eyes narrowed as he read through the pages accompanying the schematics.

After an interminable amount of time he heard the sounds of chairs scraping against the decking and looked up. "All right, that's enough for today." Rem smiled and set her cup in the sanitizer to be cleaned. He quickly reached forward and switched off the monitor before standing, arms raised above his head in a gratifying stretch, lips curving upwards into a grin as he saw his brother mirroring his stance. "I think a bit of a break is in order…what do you think?" She laughed when they both turned to her with sparkling eyes and identical grins of anticipation. "Let's go to the Recreation Room, shall we?"

Naturally, neither of the brothers would object to that particular suggestion. They always looked forward to seeing the lush green grass and verdant leafy trees. At an unspoken challenge, he turned to the door and raced his brother. He laughed as he tripped over his feet in his hurry, landing in one of the chairs, spinning helplessly as it rolled across the room to bang against the wall. He jumped out of the chair and grinned as if he'd intended to use the chair from the start and waved his hand over the control panel by the door. Glancing over his shoulder at his brother who was now four steps behind him his grin widened. "Hah!" He darted out the door and raced down the hall, pleased that he had a head start this time.

"Hey! No fair!" He could hear his brother's footsteps pounding along the corridor, rapidly closing the distance between them. There were times that he envied his brother for his speed and enthusiastic approach to the energetic games they'd been recently introduced to. He didn't particularly care for the same roughhousing that his brother enjoyed so much. He would much rather sit quietly beneath one of the trees in the Recreation Room and read one of the many books Rem had given him. Or just sit and watch the colourful butterflies as they flitted around the multitude of flowers. "You cheated!"

He skidded to a halt and turned to stare at his brother who was currently staring back at him with wide eyes, arms flailing as he tried to stop his headlong rush. "Ahh! Stop!" Eyes widening in panic he threw his arms up desperately as he was bowled over, landing heavily on the hard, unforgiving decking. Gasping from the sharp pain reverberating up is spine he blinked slowly, blue eyes filling with tears. "That hurt!" He shouted in accusation up at his brother who was currently standing over him with a contrite expression.

"I couldn't stop." He paused and bit his lip before kneeling. "I'm sorry." He whispered gravely before hugging him.

Sighing, he decided that he couldn't stay mad at his brother and returned the embrace. "It's okay. It was an accident." Shifting away slightly, he moved to his knees, wincing from the residual pain. "Help me up." Casting a narrow-eyed look at his brother as they stood side by side, he pushed him lightly. "And I didn't cheat."

**_»»¤««_**

**_Author's Notes:_**

**_Thank you for reading and reviewing:_**

**_Lunis_**

**_mangaqueen13_**


	4. Chapter 3

**Trigun Fanfic**

**_Summary:_**_ Why did it all go wrong? When did it all go wrong? He has a vague sense that he isn't where he's supposed to be, that he's being held by invisible bonds that he cannot see. Great sadness engulfs him as he looks upon the glowing bulbs and one thought reigns in his mind as he looks at the people looking back at him: You can't take me! I'm free!_

_Trigun © Yasuhiro Nightow Shonen Gaho-sha Tokuma Shoten JVC Pioneer Entertainment (USA) Inc._

_The following fan fiction was written by me (Chiruken) and is intended for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale._

**I'm Free**

By Chiruken

**Chapter 3**

**Gunsmoke, Present Day:**

He drifted, hovering just beyond full awareness, awash in a sea of pain. He was aware, in a detached way, that he wasn't alone, that someone was with him. It wasn't really that he saw them or heard them; it was more of a sensation of not being alone. Strange thoughts floated through his consciousness and he wasn't certain if they were his own thoughts, or those of others. Any attempts at grasping the thoughts to examine them further were met with stabbing pains throughout his skull, something he was certain had never happened before, though he wasn't entirely sure how he knew this.

Strange disjointed memories kept resurfacing in his mind, teasing him with wisps of understanding before darting away again. He knew he had a brother, yet he couldn't remember his name. He knew he'd been in the middle of something very important and had been interrupted, yet he wasn't certain what it was now. While he pondered the bizarre discrepancies in his memory he felt the sensation of standing within darkness, illuminated by a spotlight, yet he was given the impression that it wasn't an external brightness lending light but his own body emitting a soft glow. He thought it odd how dreams did that…revealed while concealing, casting an illusion of mystery while perfect clarity reigned. It was rather annoying, he decided, how full understanding was there, before him, yet completely unattainable in his current state. Hovering before him were two guns, one black and one silver, yet when he stretched out his hands towards them agony flared and they would disappear only to reappear elsewhere.

When he looked down he nearly panicked. He could see lush grass, the green blades bending in an unseen and unfelt wind, yet he couldn't see his own feet. After several long moments spent concentrating on breathing in and out, he felt the edge of hysteria receding. He examined the situation and decided that even though he couldn't see them, he was fairly certain he still possessed feet. Logically, he couldn't be standing if he didn't. Yet, no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't see anything beyond his knees. It wasn't as if they ended in bloody stumps…_Now where did that thought come from?_...it was more of a blurring, a fading out of existence. He decided to not dwell on the oddness of the distorted ending of his limbs and chose to focus on the grass instead. Yet, when he did so, it disappeared, leaving him suspended in an endless void.

He decided he much preferred the grass to the current scenery. It gave him the sensation of falling without actually moving, a feeling of vertigo that he didn't particularly enjoy. Echoing sounds reached him, odd things that made no sense, yet at the same time seemed familiar. An eerie, monotone voice whispering of undying loyalty, the haunting melodies of a saxophone, a woman's husky laughter. Turning slowly, he thought he saw the faint outline of a sword, yet when he blinked it was a puppet instead. Shaking his head, he frowned as his vision was filled with what appeared to be an oversized bullet spinning out of control and a giant with steam puffing out from the collar of its odd attire. Flashing light caught his attention and he blinked, taking a hasty step back as he saw twin machine guns revolving, silently spitting out a deadly rain of bullets before morphing into a shell bristling with spikes glinting in the darkness. From the corner of his eye he could make out the outline of what appeared to be a child before it blinked out of existence to be replaced with a large cross that suddenly split into two pieces. After a moment, the images disappeared and inky darkness reigned supreme once again. He was relieved. The figures had been disturbingly familiar, leaving him with a sense of disquiet and a hint of guilt. Part of him knew that he had created those beings, used them as tools in a diabolical scheme he couldn't quite remember at the moment.

After an interminable time of nothingness the darkness was abruptly shattered as strange objects began materializing hovering for a moment before shimmering and then winking out of existence. This repeated, each time lingering a little longer until, finally, he was able to recognize what he was seeing. Of course, upon recognition, he was even more bewildered. _When_, he thought with a frown, _did I start dreaming of pudding cups?_ Watching the oddly graceful display of pudding dancing across his vision, he decided that it wasn't something he would dream about normally, which led him to believe it was someone else's thoughts intruding on his own. Pursing his lips thoughtfully, he amended the thought to it being his mind intruding into someone else's. _But…who?_ Of course, he had no way of knowing whose thoughts were being displayed before him and no way of discovering the identity either…at least, not at the moment.

Just as he came to the decision to try to catch one of the dancing pudding cups they disappeared abruptly and were replaced with crosses. He studied the new objects with an inexplicable feeling of dread. It wasn't the same as the other vision; these crosses didn't split in two. Soon, the multitude of images swirled and formed into one and he took a hasty step back, throwing his hands up in a warding gesture, remembered horror and pain piercing the darkness as phantom shots rang out, ripping into his body. A silent scream burned within his chest as he fell back and kept falling, spiraling into an abyss that seemed to never end. For a moment, just a fleeting instant, red had suffused the blackness surrounding him, terrifying, hauntingly familiar, sending shockwaves of betrayal, love, disgust, surprise, frustration and anger…a myriad of conflicting emotions he was hard pressed to understand…throughout him.

When his splintered self became aware again, he heard a muffled voice close to him. "…en…ake up…" He tried to turn his head to catch the rest of the words drifting to him but gave up immediately when he was assailed with a dizzying wave of pain and nausea. "…ash is…ly…bout you…" It felt, to him, almost as if he had cotton balls stuffed in his ears and held in place with a healthy dose of duct tape. His mind tried to decipher the disjointed sentences bouncing around within it. Much to his frustration it seemed an impossible task. "…on't…ow…why…e brough…ere…" It was a feminine voice, he decided, though he wasn't certain how he could possibly know this. The voice was muffled almost beyond recognition, the words too muted to understand and the tone too soft to fully penetrate the fog clouding his half-conscious mind. "…ould be…n…pital…t…here…"

An elusive scent drifted to him as he contemplated the possible meaning behind the one-sided conversation drifting to him. He focused on that rather than the words he couldn't quite hear or understand. He felt he should know what the fragrance was and fought to put a name to it. Finally he decided that there was more than one scent. It was an interesting combination of gunpowder, ink, yeast and floral soap. He wasn't certain he liked the combination, yet it stuck in his mind, tugging at his senses. The effort it took to identify the teasing fragrance left him drained and he fought against the darkness rising up to engulf his mind again. He was afraid that if he gave in that he would be thrust into the nightmares plaguing his subconscious again. _It would be nice, _he thought tiredly as his senses slowly shut down, the voice fading into nothingness, the teasing scent lingering for a moment and following him into the darkness, _if I could just remember what happened._

**»»¤««**

_Author's Notes:_

_Thank you for reading and reviewing:_

_hope-is-4ever_

_mangaqueen13_


	5. Chapter 4

**Trigun Fanfic**

**_Summary:_**_ Why did it all go wrong? When did it all go wrong? He has a vague sense that he isn't where he's supposed to be, that he's being held by invisible bonds that he cannot see. Great sadness engulfs him as he looks upon the glowing bulbs and one thought reigns in his mind as he looks at the people looking back at him: You can't take me! I'm free!_

_Trigun © Yasuhiro Nightow Shonen Gaho-sha Tokuma Shoten JVC Pioneer Entertainment (USA) Inc._

_The following fan fiction was written by me (Chiruken) and is intended for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale._

**I'm Free**

By Chiruken

**Chapter 4**

**On Board Project SEEDS, 132 Years Ago:**

He stared at the monitor with a wounded look in his wide blue eyes, youthful face etched with anguish. He wondered how the human race had managed to survive at all; to have made it as far as they did. Tears filled his eyes, catching and sparkling on his lashes as he continued to read, lips quivering with grief for the lives that had been extinguished so cruelly. He forced himself to continue, to assimilate the information despite his growing sense of hurt betrayal. "How…" He whispered, voice quavering with the sadness filling his young heart. "How could they do that to each other?" His shoulders slumped as he lifted trembling hands to press over his chest, heart aching with deep, heart-wrenching sorrow as he mourned for the countless lives lost, people he'd never known and would never know. He wished he could unlearn what he'd just discovered, go back in time and never have opened these files, these testaments to an unforgivable blemish on humanity. "War…" He mouthed the word soundlessly, the unshed tears slowly spilling over the trickle down his pale cheeks. "Hate…" A sob caught in his throat as more tears flowed. _Death!_ It emerged as a mental shout filled with horror and loathing as the monitor exploded before him, smoke billowing upwards towards the ceiling as sparks flared when the electrical wiring brushed exposed ends together, sizzling with ungrounded energy.

"Knives!" Rem ran to him, a look of shock and horror twisting her pretty features as she grabbed him from behind and pulled him away from the melting mass that had once been a desk and computer. "Joey!" She cried, but the man was already there with a fire extinguisher. She turned him in her arms, running her hands over his body anxiously. "Are you hurt? Did you get burned?" When he shook his head mutely she pulled him into her arms, encircling him in a comforting embrace. "Thank goodness, thank goodness." She whispered, tears of relief in her voice.

He stood stiffly in her embrace, gaze focused on the shocked horror reflected in his brother's expression. _Knives…what did you do!_ He winced at the near hysterical note in Vash's mental voice. How could he explain when he, himself, was uncertain what it was that he'd done? Instead of answering, he lowered his gaze to the decking and studied the patterns there, almost as if he could find the answers in the perfect symmetry spreading outwards. He knew…though he couldn't explain how he knew…that somehow he'd caused the monitor to explode. A part of his mind filed away the information for further analysis later while another, larger part, was terrified at the implications of this strange phenomenon.

"Must've been a short circuit somewhere." Joey turned slowly away from the smoking ruins of the computer console and scratched his head. He frowned as his gaze fell on Rem and the boy she was still holding. "Is he all right?"

Rem nodded, though her expression remained troubled. She wasn't certain what it was about the situation, but something told her that this was no ordinary accident. Smoothing her hand over his pale hair she sighed deeply. There was so much they still didn't understand about Knives and Vash, like how they could possibly grow so much in such a short period of time. It had definitely not been an ordinary growth spurt. Children, she knew, just didn't grow this way. The brothers were only five months old, yet they had the appearance of five _years_ old. And their intelligence! She shook her head slightly, still marveling at the way they grasped complex theorems that took years of study, yet to them it was as simple as learning the alphabet. _It just isn't normal_, she thought with a small hint of fear. **_They_**_ aren't normal._

He closed his eyes, wishing he could shut out thoughts as easily. There were times that he could hear the thoughts of others as clear as if they had spoken the words out loud. He suppressed a shudder, thinking grimly of how people could be smiling on the outside while their thoughts were anything but pleasant on the inside. He often wondered if his brother had the same problem, yet he was hesitant to ask, thinking that perhaps Rem was right…that it was further proof of abnormality. He sighed softly. _If they knew, they'd be even more afraid._ Thinking of the files he'd just read he squeezed his eyes closed tighter, as if to block out the words and accompanying images he'd seen. _Fears creates hate…and hate brings war…I don't want to die like all those people did._

**»»¤««**

_Author's Notes:_

_Thank you for reading and reviewing:_

_Lunis_

_hope-is-4ever_


	6. Chapter 5

**Trigun Fanfic**

**_Summary:_**_ Why did it all go wrong? When did it all go wrong? He has a vague sense that he isn't where he's supposed to be, that he's being held by invisible bonds that he cannot see. Great sadness engulfs him as he looks upon the glowing bulbs and one thought reigns in his mind as he looks at the people looking back at him: You can't take me! I'm free!_

_Trigun © Yasuhiro Nightow Shonen Gaho-sha Tokuma Shoten JVC Pioneer Entertainment (USA) Inc._

_The following fan fiction was written by me (Chiruken) and is intended for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale._

**I'm Free**

By Chiruken

**Chapter 5**

**Gunsmoke, Present Day:**

The darkness surrounded him like a velvet blanket, muffling his senses. Throughout it all odd images would drift passed him, things he could readily identify, yet found he had no explanation as to why they were appearing in his dream-like state. A good example of this strange phenomenon were the doughnuts currently floating by him, some sugar coated, others with colourful candy sprinkles, and the odd few chocolate dipped. He assumed that, like the dancing pudding cups, they were someone else's drifting thoughts somehow making their way into his mind. Though he did enjoy the sweet pastries, he never obsessed over them to the extent the shear number of these images suggested at.

At the edge of his awareness he could still feel pain, but in the cocoon of darkness it was reduced to a dull ache rather than stabbing shards of agony. For this reason alone he was content to remain where he was, floating in a haze of half-aware musings and disjointed memories. A part of him rebelled, demanding that he force his way through the fog and awaken, arguing that he had unfinished business to attend to…though at the moment he wasn't entirely certain what could be so important as to force himself to emerge into what he knew would be a painful awakening. Another part whispered that it was better this way, that it was best that he didn't know and remain in blissful ignorance. The two sides waged a silent battle, each arguing their side until he was certain they'd drive him to madness with their incessant bickering. Dimly, he was aware that he should be alarmed by this apparent split in what he assumed to be his personality, yet he couldn't quite dredge up the strength to do more than try to ignore the two voices echoing through the darkness that comprised the scope of his awareness.

Occasionally the shadows would lift and he would view the world through a hazy fog. He would become aware, first, of agony radiating outwards, throbbing through his body with each beat of his heart. If the pain didn't push him back into the cushioning oblivion he would then move on to other sensations, the foremost being oppressive heat that weighted him down and stole his breath away. This, to him, was just another reason to remain within the void he was becoming familiar with. At least there physical discomfort was muted to where he could tolerate it. Unfortunately, he was also aware that he couldn't remain there indefinitely, that he would have to eventually emerge into reality and face whatever would be waiting for him there. Despite his desire to procrastinate, he decided that the sooner he got it over with, the sooner he would learn what it was that had happened to put him in such a state. Not knowing was beginning to irritate him.

Bracing himself for the inevitable pain he knew would assail him, he forced his consciousness to push harder against the thick haze muffling the world outside the darkness he'd been dwelling in for an indeterminate amount of time. As he'd expected, the first sensation to register in his mind was pain followed immediately by the heat he'd anticipated. Forcing himself to endure the discomfort, he waited until an alarming wave of nausea had passed before focusing on his surroundings.

He could hear a soft shushing as if from a great distance and it took him several moment to identify the noise as that of wind-blown sand brushing against rock. Satisfied with this explanation, he focused on the other sounds drifting to him. A small frown furrowed his forehead as he picked up the unmistakable sound of quiet breathing near by. Concentrating on this, he decided that whoever belonged to the breathing was probably asleep judging by the deep, even breaths.

Slowly opening his eyes he blinked several times until finally the ceiling came into partial focus. Dull and ugly with cracked and peeling paint that was chipped away in places to reveal sterile steel plating beneath. The materials had obviously been salvaged, at some point in time, from one of the fallen ships of Project SEEDS. He frowned, wondering where this knowledge…this certainty…came from. Deciding that it didn't really matter, he concentrated on turning his head to observe the rest of the room he found himself in. The walls were nearly identical to the ceiling, dingy and lifeless, ugly beyond belief. There was a single, small window to the side of the bed, glass panes pitted from the constant barrage of wind driven sand brushing against it. Dim light filtered into the room through the bare window, casting a sickly, yellowed glow over the small, cramped room.

The now almost familiar combined scents of gunpowder and ink, yeast and floral soap, drifted to him, teasing his senses again. Turning his head the other way, slowly, fighting against the black spots forming in his vision, he gritted his teeth and pushed back the darkness threatening to engulf him again. He wanted to see who belonged to the intriguing scent before he succumbed and returned to the oblivion of unconsciousness.

With his vision narrowing, he could make out a form resting in a rickety wooden chair, paint peeling…just like the walls and the ceiling of the room he was in…and flaking off in chunks to reveal weather-worn and sand-blasted wood beneath. Gritting his teeth, he narrowed his eyes and studied the figure, gaze roving over short dark hair falling into a face he couldn't quite see, due in large part, he supposed, because her chin was currently resting on her chest. How he knew the person was female was a mystery, but he was certain of it. A white cloak hung from her slender shoulders, opening to reveal…much to his surprise…a large number of single-shot Derringers. _Ah_, he thought with a small smile curving his lips upwards, _the scent of gunpowder._ He wondered who she could possible be but despite his curiosity he felt himself drifting into the darkness again. Allowing his eyes to slide closed he sighed softly and allowed the cushioning cocoon of unconsciousness to engulf him once again.

**»»¤««**

_Author's Notes:_

_Thank you for reading and reviewing:_

_Lunis_

_hope-is-4ever_

_uncanny__ canned peach_


	7. Chapter 6

**Trigun Fanfic**

**_Summary:_**_ Why did it all go wrong? When did it all go wrong? He has a vague sense that he isn't where he's supposed to be, that he's being held by invisible bonds that he cannot see. Great sadness engulfs him as he looks upon the glowing bulbs and one thought reigns in his mind as he looks at the people looking back at him: You can't take me! I'm free!_

_Trigun © Yasuhiro Nightow Shonen Gaho-sha Tokuma Shoten JVC Pioneer Entertainment (USA) Inc._

_The following fan fiction was written by me (Chiruken) and is intended for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale._

**I'm Free**

By Chiruken

**Chapter 6**

**On Board Project SEEDS, 132 Years Ago:**

He wasn't certain who she was or what she wanted from him, but her face was always so sad that he felt compelled to follow her through the dark and deserted corridors despite his growing sense of dread. It was always the same. The same girl, the same corridors and the same sad, knowing expression in her large, sorrowful blue eyes. She never spoke to him and he wondered at that. No matter how many questions he'd ask, she would always maintain silence. And so he would follow, blindly, all the time wondering who she was and where she came from.

As he followed, he would realize that he was in a part of the ship he'd never been in before, a place that had been deemed "Off Limits" to Vash and himself. The floors were covered in thick dust, implying that no one had been there for some time, which made him wonder even more. Why would they seemingly abandon a part of the ship? Was there something he was missing? But whenever he would ask, the girl would merely shake her head and gaze at him sadly.

At the end of the corridor was a set of doors, always closed, signs posted warning of potential hazard…bio-hazard. It was always to these doors that the girl would lead him, silently, her footfalls so light they didn't disturb the dust coating the decking beneath her. Dimly, he was aware that if he were to look down, his own trail would be invisible. He knew why, but he was reluctant to acknowledge the truth, even now as he reached forward to place his hand against the console that would trigger the mechanism to open the doors.

Of course, he always awakened before the doors could actually open. He would sit up on the bunk and stare into the darkness, wondering, questioning, and never finding answers in the dim glow of the low lighting of the room he shared with his brother. It had been the same for months on end and he was becoming quite concerned by the recurring dreams. The girl, with her pale blonde hair and large blue eyes, was strangely familiar to him, though he couldn't remember ever seeing her before in the personal files he'd been diligently perusing for nearly a year now.

He never spoke of the dreams, not even to Vash. He was worried that it would be just another thing that would mark him as being different from everyone else. He didn't want to be different…he wanted to be the same as all the other people on board Project SEEDS. Unfortunately, as time passed and he learned more, he was beginning to realize just how different he truly was. He suspected that even Vash was beginning to notice the changes taking place, though thankfully he hadn't mentioned anything…yet.

He looked down at his arms with a frown. He twisted his hands, staring at first the backs of them, then his palms, before studying his forearms intently. This was yet another secret he kept from everyone. Swallowing passed a lump of fear forming in his throat he concentrated and stared with morbid fascination at the blades that seemed to grow through his flesh along his arms. Shivering, he twisted his arms again and tried to study the strange phenomenon with scientific detachment. A futile effort, he realized as he felt the panic growing and immediately retracted the blades again. Rubbing his hands up and down his arms, he shivered and allowed his body to fall back onto the comfortable mattress as he curled into a tight, protective ball and stared at the wall.

He was fairly certain that his brother wasn't suffering from a similar affliction…if affliction is what it could be called. Though he couldn't be absolutely certain, he thought that perhaps what he was experiencing was similar in many ways to the mutation process he'd read about in the bio-engineering files. He frowned and shivered, reaching out to pull his blanket more securely around his shoulders. He shook his head slowly. No, to the best of his knowledge he hadn't been exposed to large amounts of radiation, so how could it be that his body was rapidly mutating like it was? Besides, he knew that his situation was somewhat unique, different than the reports he'd been reading. The people…_test subjects_, he thought bitterly, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth…had not been able to grow blades out of their arms, make computer monitors explode with their thoughts, nor could they read other peoples thoughts. They grew sickly, sores spread across their bodies, and they died horrible, gruesome deaths. Which left him with the impression that what he was experiencing wasn't similar at all to those early attempts at bio-engineering experimentation.

He wished, not for the first time, that he had someone he could turn to, someone to talk to about what was happening to him. He thought briefly of Rem, his surrogate mother, but immediately dismissed the idea. He couldn't go to her with this. It wasn't the same as being confused by his studies or her philosophy of life. He was afraid that if he told her the truth that she would start to look at him the same way that Steve looked at him. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and tried to force the image of the man from his mind. It hadn't been so bad at first, the man had merely been stand-offish and refused to interact with Vash and himself as the others did. But, as time passed, the looks had started. Looks filled with distrust that grew into fear and ultimately into hate. He knew Steve hated him…probably even more than he hated Vash, though he couldn't prove it. Shaking his head sharply, he pushed thoughts of the intolerant crew member from his mind. Thinking about, he knew, wouldn't do anything to fix the problem.

With a deep sigh he acknowledged that he had no one to rely on but himself. He didn't want to burden his brother with his troubles. He would continue to monitor the changes and if they became too severe, he'd go to the medical lab and run the tests himself, just to ensure that whatever was wrong with him wasn't contagious. He hated not knowing, but at the same time he dreaded discovering the truth.

Finally giving up on sleep, he quietly slipped off his bunk and bent to check on Vash. Shaking his head with an indulgent smile, he tugged his brother's blanket back over his body, tucking his sprawled limbs back onto the bunk carefully, not wishing to awaken him. Satisfied that Vash was now comfortable, he grabbed his oversized coat from the hook near the door and left quickly. Hurrying down the corridors he paused at each intersection to ensure that he wouldn't be spotted by any of the members of the crew. Finally, after an interminable amount of time he was standing before a set of familiar doors. Looking around furtively one last time, he pressed his palm flat against the control panel and smiled when the doors opened with a near silent whoosh, a blast of cold air reddening his cheeks. Looking upon row upon row of humans placed in cold sleep, his smile widened. If no where else on the ship, he could be assured that he could find a little bit of peace here.

**»»¤««**

_Author's Notes:_

_Thank you for reading and reviewing:_

_Lunis_


	8. Chapter 7

**Trigun Fanfic**

**_Summary:_**_ Why did it all go wrong? When did it all go wrong? He has a vague sense that he isn't where he's supposed to be, that he's being held by invisible bonds that he cannot see. Great sadness engulfs him as he looks upon the glowing bulbs and one thought reigns in his mind as he looks at the people looking back at him: You can't take me! I'm free!_

_Trigun © Yasuhiro Nightow Shonen Gaho-sha Tokuma Shoten JVC Pioneer Entertainment (USA) Inc._

_The following fan fiction was written by me (Chiruken) and is intended for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale._

**I'm Free**

By Chiruken

**Chapter 7**

**Gunsmoke, Present Day:**

He lay unmoving against the lumpy mattress, concentrating instead on the simple act of breathing. It was hot, again, not that this came as any surprise to him. It was always hot, oppressively so. The pain in his limbs had finally muted to a sharp ache interspersed occasionally with shooting stabs of agony when his muscles spasmed during the healing process. He was rather pleased with his progress, actually. He was now able to remain conscious for longer periods of time, could readily identify his thoughts from those of others around him, and some of his lost memory was beginning to return to him. All in all, he felt it was a definite improvement over his condition from before.

He drew in a shallow breath, ever cautious of the pain in his side that he now knew represented one of several gunshot wounds. He also knew where he'd gotten those wounds. A frown drew his brows together briefly as he thought on this bit of information that had suddenly come to him during one of his previous awakenings. His brother…he now knew his name to be Vash…had shot him for reasons he still had yet to understand, though he knew it was very important that he remembered this very important detail that still eluded his recollection. The disjointed images that had plagued his unconscious mind for so long, the snippets of memory that hadn't made much sense at the time, were beginning to draw together to form a larger picture in his mind. The green had represented grass and trees…something rare and wondrous amongst the backdrop of desert wasteland that comprised the planet…and of course, the beige could be nothing other than the rest of the world, the never ending desert. And the red…the horrible, terrifying red…that was his brother…that was Vash. His breath caught in his chest and threatened to choke him with the maelstrom of emotions roiling through him as he attempted to close his hands into fists where they rested against the mattress beneath the thin sheet covering him. The movement was met with immediate excruciating pain and he regretted it immediately.

Quiet footsteps echoing beyond the closed door to the small room he rested in drew his attention away from the agony flaring in his arms and he forced his breathing to even out. He wasn't certain why he thought it necessary to conceal his return to consciousness, only that a part of him remained adamant that he bide his time and learn more of his surroundings and of the people around him.

The sound of the door creaking open was loud in the previous silence. There was a pause and then the quiet steps continued into the room, leaving the door open. The tantalizing scent of chocolate pudding teased his senses and he knew immediately that it was the taller of the two woman who took turns with his brother watching over him. Carefully, so as not to attract attention, he allowed his eyes to open a fraction and peered at her through the concealing cover of his lashes. She was tall, exceptionally so, with long honey brown hair held back away from her face by a loose ponytail. Her features were cheerful, though her blue eyes showed residual shadows of sadness. She set the tray she'd been carrying on the single chair in the room…the same one he remembered from before with the chipped and peeling paint…and bent over him and he immediately closed his eyes again, forcibly keeping his muscles relaxed. Her breath, sweet with the scent of pudding…vanilla, not chocolate…puffed over his face as she peered at him. A moment later she was pulling the sheets back. Her touch was surprisingly gentle for someone her size as she checked the bandages covering his injuries. Seeming to be satisfied with what she saw, she replaced the thin sheet and stepped away from the bed.

He heard the creak of wood as she sat followed by the sound of the pudding cup being opened. For a moment he was tempted to break his silence and ask for one for himself, but immediately vetoed the idea as being foolish at the very least. "Mmmm…this is so tasty. There's nothing better than pudding, that's what I always say." Her voice had a childlike innocent quality to it that he found fascinating. Judging from her appearance, she was a grown woman, yet she still maintained an air of ingenuousness that both intrigued and worried him in equal parts. "It's a good thing Mr. Vash and I are going on a supply run soon." _Supply run?_ He thought with no small measure of confusion. That implied that wherever they were, it wasn't in a town. "I'm almost out of pudding." She sighed deeply, the sound of metal scraping against metal a clear indication that her pudding cup was nearly empty. "Maybe Meryl is right…maybe I should be more conservative." There was a pause filled with her soft sounds of enjoyment that sounded suspiciously like 'yummumumum'. A moment later she sighed again, a sound of contentment. "Nah. I just like pudding too much. Everyone needs to have their weaknesses, right, Mr. Knives?" He nearly jumped when she addressed him, thinking for a moment that she'd somehow seen through his subterfuge and knew that he was awake, aware, and merely feigning unconsciousness. "Well, back to work. Mr. Vash and I are digging a well. Isn't that exciting? I always did like good honest labour." The chair creaked again as she stood. "Meryl will come and keep you company while we're busy outside." Her soft steps moved towards the door. "Not that it would make much difference to you, though. You probably wouldn't notice if no one came in here. I sometimes wonder if you'll ever wake up."

When the door closed with a quiet click he opened his eyes to stare up at the dingy ceiling. _Meryl__…_ He rolled the name around in his mind, but it didn't trigger any memories. Once again he wondered who these people were. At least he now had a name to attach to the other woman. Another mystery solved with so many more to go. If only he could remember more and banish the rest of the shadows clinging to his memory.

**»»¤««**

_Author's Notes:_

_Thank you for reading and reviewing:_

_hope-is-4ever_

_Lunis_

_Raptor t.P._


	9. Chapter 8

**Trigun Fanfic**

**_Summary:_**_ Why did it all go wrong? When did it all go wrong? He has a vague sense that he isn't where he's supposed to be, that he's being held by invisible bonds that he cannot see. Great sadness engulfs him as he looks upon the glowing bulbs and one thought reigns in his mind as he looks at the people looking back at him: You can't take me! I'm free!_

_Trigun © Yasuhiro Nightow Shonen Gaho-sha Tokuma Shoten JVC Pioneer Entertainment (USA) Inc._

_The following fan fiction was written by me (Chiruken) and is intended for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale._

**I'm Free**

By Chiruken

**Chapter 8**

**On Board Project SEEDS, 132 Years Ago:**

He closed his eyes tightly shut so as not to see the heavy hand descending towards him. Clenching his teeth together, he fought to hold his silence, to not cry out as pain exploded throughout his head and back as the blow threw him backwards into the hard, unforgiving sterile wall. The reek of alcohol was strong, cloying his senses and turning his stomach.

He lay unmoving on the cold floor, having learned through bitter experience that trying to get away would only result in more pain. Breathing shallowly, he opened his eyes and glared up at the man towering above him in time to see him hold the nearly empty bottle to his lips and upend it before tossing it carelessly to the side, seemingly oblivious to the sound of glass smashing. "Monsters…" A loud belch interrupted the familiar speech. "Freaks, the both o' ya!" He couldn't hold in the sharp cry of pain as the man's foot connected with his side, lifting him off the floor and throwing him to the side. "Ain't normal! Nobody listens t' me…I know…I know…" The slurred speech drifted off into unintelligible mutterings for a moment. "Kill us all in our sleep…lil hell-spawn!"

His eyes widened as he watched Steve reach to the side for a large crowbar. With a soft whimper of terror, he scrambled out of the way as it descended towards him, wincing as the metal clanged against the decking, vibrating it beneath his hands and knees as he crawled behind a piece of heavy equipment, wedging himself against the wall. "Rem…" He breathed her name, desperate, yet unable to actually call out to the woman for help, knowing that he wouldn't be heard through the walls and over the sound of equipment running. He shook his head to clear away the remnants of sluggishness the previous blow had left and twisted around until his back was to the wall, facing the opening he'd managed to crawl into. He covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut tight as the inebriated crew member continued to shout obscenities at him, profane words of hate and menace that filled him with equal parts of disgust and fear.

"C'mon outta there, freak!" He pulled back, hugging his knees to his chest and lowered his head, long blond hair falling forward to hide his face. "I ain't gonna hurt ya…much!" He jumped at the loud report of metal striking against metal. "Jus' gonna teach ya yer place, is all…can't let ya think yer better 'n us…" He squeezed his eyes shut tight again and tried to focus on anything other than the man shouting invectives at him and threatening him. "Gottcha!" His head snapped up painfully as he felt a hand fist in his hair and drag him upwards. He couldn't hold in the scream of terror as he was pulled from his hiding place and thrown to the grated decking.

The blows rained down, seemingly with no end. He'd given up on counting long before, back when the beatings had first begun, choosing instead to retreat to a place inside his mind where the ugliness of reality couldn't find him. He concentrated on the faces he remembered from the profiles, the names of each person and his hopes for their future together. He thought of Rem and her gentle smile and soft voice. He remembered the games he'd played with his brother in the Recreation Room. He tried to think of everything good and kind and beautiful to push the horrible truth of his present from his mind. He was thankful that he'd been able to protect his brother from the vicious beatings at the hands of Steve. He could be content knowing that Vash was safe in the Recreation Room with Rem, listening to her stories of Earth and her dreams of the future. He would never have to know about the cruel side of humans, not as he was learning about it. For that, he would endure anything.

Just when he thought he could take no more the blows stopped just as suddenly as they'd begun. He drew in a shuddering breath, whimpering at the pain the action brought. He could taste blood and every breath caused excruciating agony to flare through his chest. He knew that Steve had hurt him worse this time than he ever had before and he wondered idly if the strange lethargy overcoming him meant that he was dying. He bit his lip and slowly, painfully, lifted his head to stare at the man slumped against the wall through a blur of tears. _I don't want to die!_ He thought desperately. _Not here, not like this…_ He listened for a moment and finally breathed a silent sigh of relief when he heard the man's loud snores. Slowly, with difficulty, he crawled towards the desk near the door where he paused to try to catch his breath before using it to pull himself to his feet where he swayed unsteadily, dark spots forming in his vision as he gasped, shooting shards of agony piercing his chest and side. With one last, anxious look over his shoulder towards the crew member passed out on the floor, he pressed his hand to the console and bit his lip worriedly when the door opened with a soft shushing sound. Looking towards Steve again, he was relieved to see that the sound of the door opening hadn't roused him from his drunken stupor.

He staggered out into the corridor and made his way unsteadily towards the medical center, silently praying that he didn't meet anyone along the way. It took all his concentration to remain on his feet as he clung to the walls for support, forcing one foot in front of the other. He hated this…this pain, this fear, this horrible feeling that made him feel as if he'd be physically ill at any moment. He knew that eventually Steve would no longer be content with merely hurting him, that someday soon he'd be overcome with his hatred and not stop…would continue until he was dead, and maybe Vash, too. He bit his lip, tears slowly trickling down his cheeks from the horrible pains lancing throughout his bruised and battered body as well as the ache in his heart. Rem alone couldn't protect them, that much had become clear to him. Something had to be done, and soon, he just didn't know what.

He didn't know how many times he fell as he made his slow way to the medical center, but when he finally managed to stagger through the doors into the semi-dark room he sobbed with relief as he fell against the console. Gritting his teeth, he typed in the commands on the keyboard and slid slowly to the floor as he waited for the cylindrical medical capsule to open for him. He lowered his head and concentrated on breathing shallowly for several long moments before forcing his body to move the last few meters between where he'd fallen to the medical equipment waiting in stand-by mode for him. Pulling himself up painfully, he half collapsed, half climbed into it and waited for the lid to close as the darkness pulled at him. _In two hours it'll be like nothing happened._ He thought fuzzily. _No more bruises, no more broken bones…only memories._ He sighed as warmth infused his body, beginning the healing process. His last conscious thought was wistful…_Why can't everyone be like Rem?..._then the healing sleep overtook him and he fell into nightmares filled with pain and tears.

**»»¤««**

_Author's Notes:_

_Thank you for reading and reviewing:_

_hope-is-4ever_

_Lunis_


	10. Chapter 9

**Trigun Fanfic**

**_Summary:_**_ Why did it all go wrong? When did it all go wrong? He has a vague sense that he isn't where he's supposed to be, that he's being held by invisible bonds that he cannot see. Great sadness engulfs him as he looks upon the glowing bulbs and one thought reigns in his mind as he looks at the people looking back at him: You can't take me! I'm free!_

_Trigun © Yasuhiro Nightow Shonen Gaho-sha Tokuma Shoten JVC Pioneer Entertainment (USA) Inc._

_The following fan fiction was written by me (Chiruken) and is intended for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale._

**I'm Free**

By Chiruken

**Chapter 9**

**Gunsmoke, Present Day:**

Memories were elusive things, he'd discovered. They were skittish, dancing away before he could grasp them, remaining just out of reach no matter how hard he tried to capture them. He was becoming increasingly frustrated by his inability to remember the details surrounding the circumstances that had placed him where he was…flat on his back, in tremendous pain, with five gunshot wounds placed in strategic areas on his body. _And at the mercy of strangers.__ Can't forget that little detail._ He sighed and shifted his weight slightly on the mattress. It still hurt, but he could at least do that much now.

He wasn't certain how long he'd been floating in and out of consciousness, but he was given the impression that he'd been in that state for some time. He opened his eyes and peered out the dirty and sand-pitted window at the sky, checking the position of the suns. _She'll be here soon._ Satisfied, he closed his eyes again and waited. He didn't have long to wait, just as he'd predicted. First, he could hear her footsteps as she approached, quiet yet purposeful. Next, he could hear her muttering to herself, the words muffled by the closed door and walls. A moment later, the door opened with the same annoying squeak it did every time and his senses were assaulted by a myriad of scents, the foremost being, of course, gunpowder, ink and floral soap. Oddly enough, the scent of yeast had faded with Vash's departure. He wondered, not for the first time, just how far from civilization they really were for it to take so long for a simple supply run. By his estimation, his brother had been gone for nearly a week.

His attention was drawn from his reverie when Meryl sighed and sat in the chair by his bed. "Just how long are you going to sleep anyway?" Her voice, like her footsteps, was quiet, yet filled with purpose. He had decided, when she'd first begun speaking to him…or rather, when he'd first become aware that she was speaking to him…that he liked her voice. In some ways it was soothing, in others challenging. He thought it an odd combination, but that didn't make it any less pleasant. _Much like her scent._ He thought with an inward smile. He knew he'd always associate gunpowder and ink with Meryl now. "It's boring just waiting around with a comatose psychopath." This was, of course, not the first time she'd made that kind of reference to him. He really wished his memory would hurry up and return so he'd know what she was talking about. "It wasn't so bad when Millie and Vash were here…but now…" She sighed deeply again. "It's a bad sign when you're lonely and bored enough to want humankind's number one enemy to wake up so you can engage in a bit of small talk." She snorted lightly. "Yeah. I can see it now. So, Knives, any plans for today? Oh, besides plotting the annihilation of my species, that is." She gave a short bark of laughter containing no humour. "Yeah, right. Like that would go over well at all."

He wondered what he'd done to elicit such a negative opinion of himself in the woman sitting at his bedside. To say she disliked him was an understatement and a half. He could feel animosity rolling off of her in waves of negativity whenever she was near him. It was, at the very least, disconcerting. Despite her obvious aversion, she took care of him admirably. His bandages were checked six times a day…why so often, he wasn't certain, but he felt that perhaps she was just a thorough person…and changed three times. She never failed to make certain his sheet was tucked securely around his body, and she was quite fastidious in her attempts to keep him reasonably comfortable. For someone who hated him as much as she seemed to, she certainly spent a lot of time seeing to his well-being.

"There's something I'd like to know…" She murmured softly as she stood, the chair creaking with her movement. The next instant he could feel her breath, scented with coffee, lightly fanning his face. "How can you survive for so long without eating or drinking? Is it a Plant thing or something? I'd think for sure you'd have either wasted away from starvation or dehydration after all this time…but no…there you are, still asleep and looking none the worse for wear despite having five gunshot wounds and not moving for close to four months." She sighed again and moved away. "Yeah…must be a Plant thing." The chair creaked again as she sat. "It really isn't fair, you know." She paused and the moment stretched a bit longer than was comfortable and he began to wonder if she'd continue or leave the comment hanging in the air between them. "You look so much like him that I have to constantly remind myself how unlike him you actually are…" Naturally, he knew immediately that she was referring to Vash. "I just don't get it. How can you even be brothers? He's so sweet and kind…and you…" Another pause, this one much shorter than the last. "And you're the complete opposite."

As silence descended again, he was left wondering just what sort of person he actually was and why would someone like Meryl, who so obviously detested him, aid in his recovery. If he really was as horrible a person as she implied, then why hadn't she just killed him, or at the very least left him to his own devices rather than helping him? It was a puzzle and he was determined to unravel it, no matter how long it took. Of course, he really had nothing better to do at the moment, either, considering he was currently confined to a bed with missing gaps still remaining in his memory. Perhaps the answers he sought would come to him when the last remaining pieces to the puzzle that had become his mind finally clicked into place. He hoped it would be soon…he was discovering that he really didn't have a lot of patience for this sort of thing.

"These supply runs are really very troublesome." His attention was drawn out of his morose thoughts again by her voice. "I suppose I understand why Vash insisted on taking up residence in the middle of nowhere, all things considered…but it really is inconvenient." He risked opening his eyes a little and peering at her from beneath his lashes. She was seated again in the chair, one arm draped over the back while the other fanned herself ineffectively with a book. "It's stuffy in here." She muttered before sitting up straight and glaring at the window. "Naturally he had to put you in the room where the window doesn't open." She shook her head, expression revealing her exasperation. "Honestly…how does he expect you to recover with no fresh air?" He found himself wondering the same thing and fought to hold back a smile. "I should try starting a garden. The well has plenty of water and every little bit helps." She sighed and shook her head again. "Bernardelli is still paying Millie and I to keep Vash under twenty-four hour surveillance, but eventually even that will run out when they realize that he's been neutralized and not causing any more trouble." She dropped her head into her hands. "I don't know what we're going to do when that happens." She chuckled softly and shook her head, not lifting it from where it was still cradled in her hands. "Well, I suppose…just to keep things interesting and the pay cheque coming in…" She lifted her head and leaned back in the chair again. "Vash could go and blow up a jail or a bank." She laughed lightly and shook her head. "What am I saying? Like that would help anything." She sighed and lifted her book to fan her face again. "No, that would just bring more trouble than we need right now. Like we need more bounty hunters looking for him."

He wondered if his brother realized the financial troubles that were looming over their heads. He wasn't entirely certain he understood everything Meryl was telling him…albeit unwittingly since she still thought he was unconscious…but he did understand enough to know that they were walking a tightrope that could snap at any moment. Not that he felt that he had much to do with the current situation. As she'd already pointed out, he didn't really do much more than take up space in a bed. One of the benefits, he determined, to being able to slow his metabolism to such a degree. Vash, he decided, would do well to follow his example. As Plants, they didn't require much by way of nourishment as long as they didn't expend large amounts of energy indiscriminately. Like so many other things recently, he wasn't entirely certain how he knew this, just that he did. He thought of his brother's love for doughnuts and mentally shook his head. Just because he could get away with it without having to worry about things such as cholesterol, diabetes, and other such human health problems didn't mean he should be a glutton. He wrinkled his nose a little. _His lack of self-control is…disgusting._

"I wish they'd hurry up already and get back. It really is boring sitting here and talking to myself." She shifted on the chair until she was slouched, her head falling back to rest over the spine of the chair, her legs stretched out in front of her and crossed at the ankles. "I suppose it's preferable to you actually being awake…but still…every now and then it would be nice to have someone else to talk to other than myself or the four walls." She rolled her head to the side and eyed the typewriter sitting on the small bedside table. "I guess I could type up another report…but…" She sighed deeply and allowed her head to roll back to its previous position. "I'm already six weeks ahead. I really shouldn't be writing reports that far ahead in the first place…any more and they're going to realize the truth sooner rather than later. And then we're going to be in more trouble than I want to even begin to imagine." She shuddered and sat up straight again. "All we need right now is to have Bernardelli send out another insurance investigator to investigate us. Yeah, that would go really well. How the heck would I explain everything that's been going on without sounding like I belong in a mental institution?"

Personally, he thought she was worrying over nothing. From what he'd heard since regaining his senses, she should be enjoying the break from the mayhem that seemed to follow his brother around doggedly, not complaining about the inactivity and boredom. He almost said so, too, but decided against it. He wanted to learn as much as he could while the opportunity was presented to him. He had a feeling she wouldn't be nearly as talkative if she were to know that he was awake, aware and listening to everything she said.

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_Author's Notes:_

_I'm finding it rather difficult to carry on a one-sided conversation. If it sounds a little stilted, I apologize._

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_Thank you for reading and reviewing:_

_hope-is-4ever_

_Lunis_

_Granny Smith_


	11. Chapter 10

**Trigun Fanfic**

**_Summary:_**_ Why did it all go wrong? When did it all go wrong? He has a vague sense that he isn't where he's supposed to be, that he's being held by invisible bonds that he cannot see. Great sadness engulfs him as he looks upon the glowing bulbs and one thought reigns in his mind as he looks at the people looking back at him: You can't take me! I'm free!_

_Trigun © Yasuhiro Nightow Shonen Gaho-sha Tokuma Shoten JVC Pioneer Entertainment (USA) Inc._

_The following fan fiction was written by me (Chiruken) and is intended for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale._

**I'm Free**

By Chiruken

**Chapter 10**

**On Board Project SEEDS, 132 Years Ago:**

_It's a nightmare…it has to be a nightmare!_ He repeated the desperate thought over and over in his mind as he stared through the open door into the room coated in dust. His eyes moved over the jars lining the shelves of the laboratory. _I just have to wake up and it'll all go away._ Even in his own mind the words sounded false and empty. He felt himself moving forward, against his own volition. He didn't want to go into the room that had previously been sealed, but he also found it impossible to stop himself from doing so. He looked back the way he'd come and shuddered. He could see his footprints. It wasn't a dream this time…everything was real…terrifyingly so.

"Wh-what is this place?" Vash's voice reflected the growing horror and sense of betrayal he felt yet was unable to voice. "Knives, what is this?" He reached out and grasped his brother's hand and held it tightly as they moved as one through the room filled with unimaginable horrors. He couldn't answer…he had no answers. He didn't know and he was afraid to find out, yet he also knew that he must in order to finally understand the dreams that had been plaguing him as well as what was happening to himself.

He moved as if in a trance, blue gaze flitting over the jars with their grotesque displays, feeling bile rising and threatening to overwhelm him. He was terrified, disgusted and angry all at once with no real outlet for any of the emotions currently roiling through him making him feel almost physically ill. Images kept superimposing themselves in his mind, making it difficult to know what was real and what wasn't. He paused in front of a sterile metal gurney and drew in a sharp breath as a young girl appeared briefly, tubes and wires stuck into her small body, blue eyes filled with despair and pain, pale blonde hair unkempt and matted where it hadn't been shaved to allow easier access for probes to be stuck into her tender flesh. He blinked and the girl was gone, but the horror of the vision wouldn't leave him, couldn't leave him.

"We shouldn't be here…" Vash whispered hoarsely, green eyes slightly glazed and darting around the lab fearfully. "We shouldn't be here, Knives…i-it's Off Limits…Rem said so." He felt his twin tugging on his hand, urging him to leave the room of horrors behind. "Please…I don't want to be here any more!" He tried to ignore his brother's growing hysteria while also attempting to suppress his own.

He pulled his hand free from Vash's crushing grip, turned and placed his hands on his shoulders, shaking him slightly to get his attention focused on him rather than the room with its terrible displays lining the walls. "Vash…" He had to swallow before continuing, forcing his voice to remain calm and steady. "I need to know…I need to know why Steve hates us so much." He couldn't stop the tremors that the name had caused. "I need to know why he…why he hurts us."

Vash gave him a perplexed look. "Hurts us? What are you talking about?" He frowned uncertainly and gave him a penetrating stare. "What has he done to you, brother?"

He shook his head quickly, not wanting to relive the pain and fear that the retelling of his ordeals at the hands of the drunken crew member would bring. "I-it's not important." He could tell that his twin wasn't convinced when his frown deepened.

"If he's hurting you, you should tell Rem."

"I said it's not important!" As soon as the shouted words left his mouth he regretted them. Ashamed for having lost his temper with his brother, he turned away and approached the computer terminal. He didn't want to see what the files on the hard drive might contain, yet at the same time he was consumed with the need to know. Some how, deep down, he knew that the answers to his questions, the reasons behind the cold stares and the hatred, were contained in this room, this horrible, nightmarish room that haunted not only his dreams but now his waking hours as well. Casting an apologetic look over his shoulder he sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Vash."

"I know…and I meant what I said. You should tell Rem. She can stop whatever's happening."

He shook his head sadly and turned back to the monitor as he switched the computer on, listening to the hum as the fan circulated air through the machine. "No…I don't think she can…I don't think anyone can…" He tried almost desperately to not see anything else in the room. This strange room, this laboratory that had been sealed off from the rest of the ship and seemingly abandoned both terrified him and disgusted him…left him with a horrible sinking feeling and a looming sense of dread. Doom, he knew, was hanging just over their heads, waiting for the right moment to lower the boom. It was very much like the story Rem had told them…the story of Damocles. Like the ancient mythological figure, they, too, were living a rich life seemingly filled with all of life's pleasures…yet, hanging over their heads was the sword hung by a thin thread…a sword that could fall at any moment. Only the sword hanging over their heads wasn't a steel blade, but rather hate. And instead of being hung aloft by a single thread, it was held in check by the thin veneer of civility. He hated it. The uncertainty, the fear. It was only a matter of time before the hate would override the politeness. He was already feeling the brunt of the full implications. He didn't want Vash to have to suffer it as well.

Vash leaned against him, peering over his shoulder at the screen as he worked around the passwords to bring up the files and the secrets contained within them. "Who do you think she is?" He whispered near his ear.

He shrugged. "I don't know…" He murmured softly, fingers flying over the keyboard as he typed in the commands and entered into the menu. "Tessla?" He blinked and stared at the name, his heart hammering painfully against his chest.

"Who's that?"

He shook his head, indicating that he was as clueless as his brother as he continued passed what appeared to be the opening screen and entered the directory listing the files under the heading of the strangely familiar…yet foreign…name. He stared with wide eyes at the list that seemed to go on forever. "There's so many!" He didn't know where to begin. His hands hovered over the console as he chewed his bottom lip in indecision. Vash took the choice from him by reaching forward and opening the earliest dated file. They went from there, reading as fast as they could, moving from file to file, until finally, with tears falling unchecked, he collapsed, his young mind unable to grasp all that he'd learned, his young heart unable to bear the grief that assailed it.

**»»¤««**

_Author's Notes:_

_I've taken a __LOT__ of liberties with the established background provided in the manga. Yes, there was a Tessla. Yes, she'd been an experiment. Yes, Vash and Knives found out about her after following her "ghost" and then reading the restricted files. I've changed events somewhat, altered dialogue drastically, and basically steered away from the "facts" established in the manga and created this chapter. Hopefully it hasn't turned the events into an incoherent mess._

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_Thank you for reading and reviewing:_

_hope-is-4ever_

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_Special thanks for all the words of encouragement:_

_Draken-Korin_


	12. Chapter 11

**Trigun Fanfic**

**_Summary:_**_ Why did it all go wrong? When did it all go wrong? He has a vague sense that he isn't where he's supposed to be, that he's being held by invisible bonds that he cannot see. Great sadness engulfs him as he looks upon the glowing bulbs and one thought reigns in his mind as he looks at the people looking back at him: You can't take me! I'm free!_

_Trigun © Yasuhiro Nightow Shonen Gaho-sha Tokuma Shoten JVC Pioneer Entertainment (USA) Inc._

_The following fan fiction was written by me (Chiruken) and is intended for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale._

**I'm Free**

By Chiruken

**Chapter 11**

**Gunsmoke, Present Day:**

He was bored. He longed for the deafening silence to be broken. He tried to will it to be broken, to no avail. Of course, he knew a way to relieve the boredom that had overtaken him, but was reluctant to resort to such drastic measures. He still wasn't ready to announce to the world…such as it was, currently consisting of his brother, the two women, and himself…that he was no longer unconscious and unaware of the passage of time. But still…it was so damnably boring that it was starting to drive him batty.

He fought to keep his expression blank, to not allow the scowl he was feeling to emerge. The more time that passed, the more he remembered, which would probably be considered by most to be a positive turn of events. However, he wasn't just anybody and he didn't care for the returning memories one little bit. He was starting to understand why Meryl continuously referred to him as a psychopath. It was as if a lifetime had passed, or perhaps the events unfolding in his slowly recovering memories had happened to another person and he was merely the observer. He sighed inaudibly and mentally shook his head. As much as he longed to deny it, he couldn't. He had to face facts and the facts all pointed to something he was loathe to admit, yet found he had no choice in the matter. He wasn't a nice person and he didn't really like himself all that much. It was a wonder that no one had tried to suffocate him yet while he was still recovering physically. It would've been easy…the pillows were there, his limbs still incapacitated, and he was supposedly unconscious…yet no one had lifted a finger to harm him. In fact, it was the complete opposite. They were doing all they could to see to his recovery. But what bothered him the most about the situation…something that stayed in his mind and kept him awake long after his body told him to sleep…he knew that if the roles were reversed that he wouldn't have hesitated…he would have killed each and every one of the people who were currently helping him and he wouldn't have given it a second thought.

He really wished Vash would say something. It was his turn to keep watch over him, but he had yet to utter a sound. Vash rarely spoke to him, actually. Millie would talk, blithely chatting about inconsequential things, a cheerful tide of words that washed over him continuously, despite his lack of response. Even Meryl talked to him, usually about matters pertaining to the running of the household, her tenuous hold on her continued employment with the insurance society, and occasionally rhetorical questions directed at him asking impossible questions that always began with "why". Her conversations were sometimes interspersed with little comments that at first made no sense and then later, with the passage of time, hinted at deeper feelings directed towards his brother…which, of course, he really didn't want to know, but he couldn't very well tell _her_ that…not if he didn't want to "blow his cover". He fought the urge to laugh…and won after a valiant effort to contain his mirth. To the best of his knowledge, Vash was completely clueless where the small woman was concerned. He was more than a little disturbed by his lack of attention. Unless, of course, the woman was better at concealing her feelings than he gave her credit for.

Truthfully, he much preferred the company of the women at this point. He was still quite angry with his brother for shooting him. Though his memory of the details was still a little sketchy, he understood that he really hadn't given Vash much choice in the matter, but a part of him whined that he didn't have to shoot him so many times. He didn't like pain…which, of course, was an understatement. He loathed it, hated it with every fibre of his being. But, even more than that, he feared it. Pain brought with it memories of a distant time when he lived with so much pain that even now, so long after the fact, he could feel the veil of terror descending over his mind, choking him, causing his heart to race and his stomach to heave alarmingly. He pushed the panic away forcefully and turned his mind away from the past and memories of the sour scent of alcohol and the images of a looming figure shrouded in shadows.

He wondered what Vash thought about while he sat in the rickety chair at his bedside, silent for hours on end. He was tempted to find out, but refrained. His brother may have neglected honing most of his natural born talents, but he would definitely notice an intrusion into his mind. Of course, he wasn't overly concerned about searching through the minds of the women, yet he still exercised caution. It wouldn't do for Vash to sense his telepathic prodding. Then there were the women themselves. He grimaced inwardly. Millie was…different. He didn't think he'd ever encountered anyone quite like her before in his long life. He ignored the fact that he'd lived the life of a hermit for most of it with very little contact with others to really base much of a comparison on. He liked her mind, for the most part, but he really didn't want to spend a lot of time in it. Meryl, on the other hand, had an interesting mind. Very orderly, everything was neatly tucked away, information easy to access if needed. Yet, at the same time, he really didn't want to spend a lot of time in her mind, either. Too many of her thoughts centered on his brother…and himself. The thoughts of his brother weren't something he wished to focus on for obvious reasons. He fought the flush of embarrassment and eventually won. And her thoughts about him weren't very flattering so he really felt no need to linger on them. He sighed softly, a bare breath of sound and admitted that the real reason he didn't want to be in their minds was for the simple fact that he'd managed, unfortunately, to enter during a _very_ bad time of the month. He'd learned more about the female body than he ever wanted to know. A slight grimace rippled across his brow. Simply put, a woman suffering from PMS was not one he wished to be connected to mentally.

**»»¤««**

_Author's Notes:_

_Thank you for reading and reviewing:_

_hope-is-4ever_

_Lunis_


	13. Chapter 12

**Trigun Fanfic**

**_Summary:_**_ Why did it all go wrong? When did it all go wrong? He has a vague sense that he isn't where he's supposed to be, that he's being held by invisible bonds that he cannot see. Great sadness engulfs him as he looks upon the glowing bulbs and one thought reigns in his mind as he looks at the people looking back at him: You can't take me! I'm free!_

_Trigun © Yasuhiro Nightow Shonen Gaho-sha Tokuma Shoten JVC Pioneer Entertainment (USA) Inc._

_The following fan fiction was written by me (Chiruken) and is intended for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale._

**I'm Free**

By Chiruken

**Chapter 12**

**On Board Project SEEDS, 132 Years Ago:**

_If I pretend that nothing happened…if I pretend hard enough…will that make everything all right again?_ He opened his eyes slowly and stared up at the dimly lit ceiling above him. _How could they do that?_ His eyebrows drew together into a frown as his blue eyes narrowed. _How could **Rem** do that!_ The frown didn't disappear, though his expression changed from angry to sad, blue eyes filling with tears of betrayal. _Will she let them do that to us, too? Will Rem experiment on us like she did to Tessla?_ He thought of the woman who'd raised him, of her smiles and hugs, her gentle voice and infectious laughter. _What she did was wrong…but…_ He closed his eyes, hands balling into fists beneath the light blanket covering his body. _I can't hate her…I can't hate Rem though I know I should._

The sound of quiet breathing nearby broke through his thoughts and he slowly turned his head, peering into the shadows of the dimly lit medical center. His gaze fell on the sleeping form of the woman he'd come to regard as a mother. She was sleeping, her head tilted at an uncomfortable angle and resting against her shoulder, hands folded over her stomach. He frowned when he saw that one of her hands was bandaged. It appeared to be a recent injury, the white of the bandages showing a faint pink outline. Sitting slowly, careful to not make a sound, he closed his eyes in concentration and allowed his mind to lightly touch hers, searching for answers to some of his more pressing questions. He didn't want to delve too deeply into her mind, afraid of what he might find lurking in the depths of her subconscious.

She was tired, he discovered, and in some pain, though it seemed more of a mild discomfort to her. Her thoughts were flitting through her latest botanical experiment for the biosphere, the Recreation Room the crew spent most of their leisure time in. There was anxiety focused around thoughts of the crew…whether Rowan had found the cause of the malfunction in the Cold Sleep chamber, if Mary was taking proper care of the cuttings she'd made of the geraniums, was Joey eating properly and getting enough sleep, did Steve finish the diagnostics on the Plant's couplings. These were all running through her mind, though over them all she was relieved that Vash was now eating and talking to her. He paused, eyes opening slowly as a frown tugged the corners of his lips down. _What's wrong with Vash? He wasn't eating?_ He shook his head a little and turned his attention back to the woman sleeping at his bedside. Over all the thoughts swirling through her head, over everything that he'd already seen, was her worry for his wellbeing. He bit his lip to keep it from trembling as tears filled his eyes. _Rem's__ worried about me. I made Rem worry._ Guilt filled him. There was no way he could ever hate her, no chance even for anger to form.

Making his decision, he cleared his throat and forced the tears away. Rem started and blinked blearily, lifting her arms over her head in a stretch, the movement shifting her t-shirt up a little and exposing more bandages around her stomach. Eyes widening, he stared at the obviously recent injury, quickly searching her mind for the cause. Gasping in shock, he could only stare at her in mute horror. _Vash__ stabbed Rem? Vash tried to kill Rem!_ Shaking his head sharply, he focused on the woman again and forced his expression to calmness despite the roiling emotions chasing themselves through his mind.

Her gaze fell on him, soft brown eyes widening as her lips formed an 'oh' of surprise. "K-Knives?" She whispered, voice catching on a sob as she launched herself out of the chair and grabbed him, pulling him against her in a crushing hug. "Thank goodness, thank goodness!" He returned the hug, staring at the wall, discomfited by her display. "I was so worried…I thought you may never regain consciousness." She pulled back and held him at arms length, studying him with a wide smile, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

He blinked and then smiled widely in return. "I'm hungry, Rem." Having made his decision, he felt much better. He'd pretend that nothing had happened and everything would be all right. Rem had made a mistake in the past, but he couldn't hate her for it. She'd made the mistake and now she was trying to fix it by being a mother to Vash and himself. She loved them and he had to believe that she'd never let anyone use them like Tessla had been used…he had to believe in _her_. No matter what, no matter how painful the memories of Tessla were, he would pretend that nothing happened and never bring it up again. If he didn't think about it, then it didn't happen…and they could go on like before. He smiled again, determined.

**»»¤««**

_Author's Notes:_

_Once again, I've taken certain events from the manga and altered them to suit my needs._

**»¤«**

_Thank you for reading and reviewing:_

_hope-is-4ever_

_Lunis_


	14. Chapter 13

**Trigun Fanfic**

**_Summary:_**_ Why did it all go wrong? When did it all go wrong? He has a vague sense that he isn't where he's supposed to be, that he's being held by invisible bonds that he cannot see. Great sadness engulfs him as he looks upon the glowing bulbs and one thought reigns in his mind as he looks at the people looking back at him: You can't take me! I'm free!_

_Trigun © Yasuhiro Nightow Shonen Gaho-sha Tokuma Shoten JVC Pioneer Entertainment (USA) Inc._

_The following fan fiction was written by me (Chiruken) and is intended for the sole purpose of shared entertainment and not intended for publication or sale._

**I'm Free**

By Chiruken

**Chapter 13**

**Gunsmoke, Present Day:**

Millie was babbling again. Her cheerful voice washed over him, irritating while at the same time soothing. Her preoccupation with pudding was astounding…and a little frightening. He certainly didn't want to be the poor fool who got between Millie Thompson and her pudding cups. He shifted slightly, taking great care to not make a sound or move the light sheet covering him. His injuries were healing well, which was a relief. Unfortunately, the healing process…which consisted of bone, tissue and muscle repairing themselves…caused great amounts of discomfort including, but not restricted to, muscle spasms that varied in intensity. All in all, it was an unpleasant experience and he was impatient for it to be over with. He mentally shook himself as his mind wandered. Millie was currently reading her monthly letter from her family aloud.

At first the readings had annoyed him. He honestly didn't care about her family and couldn't understand why she felt it necessary to drone on and on about them. Of course, she didn't know that he was listening, though that puzzled him even more. If she thought he was still unconscious, then why on Gunsmoke would she read to him? After a while, he found himself looking forward to the monthly letters almost as enthusiastically as she did. Despite himself, he'd been drawn in and was curious. _Damn my curiosity, anyway._ He thought without rancor.

He'd learned that she came from a large family…a _very_ large family. He wasn't certain if any of them actually had names, though. She only referred to them as brothers and sisters…the titles varying seemingly by the order of their birth. He often wondered if she was the only one with a name in her family…besides her numerous nieces and nephews, of course.

He forced his attention back to her. She was getting to the part that he was most curious about. "'And so, it seems our Jimmy is all grown up now. He must have planned it for ages. I don't know how he kept it from everyone, but there you have it, he did. He must have saved every single cecent that he earned to buy that ring for Caroline. It's the most darling ring you could ever see and looks beautiful on her hand. It's going to be so much fun to have everyone together again for the wedding. We dearly hope that you'll be able to make it, Millie…'" She paused in her reading to sigh deeply. "'But I'm sure Jimmy and Caroline would understand that your job is very important and you might not be able to make it home in time for the wedding. They've planned it so that he'll have the cast off in time to stand at the altar…'"

He tuned out the rest of the letter, satisfied now that he'd heard the results of Jimmy's past escapades and his subsequent success in proposing to Caroline. He allowed a small smile to flit across his lips. At first he'd thought the boy had a death wish and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why he'd climb to the roof of the barn at Millie's family's farm. Apparently it had been his intention to unfurl a banner with the words "Caroline Will You Marry Me". He had to admit that it was an original idea. Unfortunately his footing hadn't been as secure as it could have been and he'd tumbled off the roof in mid-proposal.

The sound of paper crinkling drew his attention again and he opened his eyes a little to peer at the woman sitting in the chair by his bed. She was folding the letter carefully and placing it back in its envelope. Millie was always careful with the letters her family sent to her. He didn't doubt she kept each and every one of them. "I wonder if Bernardelli will give me some time off so I can go home for little Jimmy's wedding." She sighed deeply and shook her head. "No, I couldn't ask. I have responsibilities here. I couldn't leave Meryl all alone to watch Vash and take care of you, Mr. Knives." She ran her fingers over the envelope, her expression revealing her longing. "It's too bad I couldn't take everyone home with me. That would solve everything." She shrugged and tucked the letter into her pocket. "Well, it would be nice, but not very practical. Can't very well carry someone as sick as you all over Gunsmoke, now can I? I mean, it'll be bad enough when you finally do wake up…but to have you around even more people would be a very, very bad idea."

His eyebrows drew down slightly. _What? Does she expect me to go on a murderous rampage at the drop of a hat? _He allowed a soft snort as he answered his own question. _Probably.__ My behaviour in the past would lead anyone to that conclusion. _Despite the logic of it, he couldn't help but feel a little bitter. _Just what has Vash been telling them anyway?_

"Oh well. Maybe they'll send me pictures of the wedding." She stood and lifted her arms over her head in a stretch. "Mmmm…I'm hungry. I wonder if I have any pudding left." She lowered her arms back to her sides and turned for the door. "Meryl will be here soon, so I think it'll be okay to sneak out a little earlier today. It isn't like you're going to run away on us, not the way you are." She paused at the door. "I wonder what'll happen when you do wake up. I hope you'll try to be nice to Vash…he really is only trying to help you, Mr. Knives."

After she was gone and the door closed behind her he opened his eyes to stare up at the ceiling. "Help me?" He murmured softly. "He _shot_ me. Some help."

**»»¤««**

_ Author's Notes:_

_Thank you for__ reading and reviewing:_

_smilesmega_

_hope-is-4ever_

_Raptor the Predator_

_Lunis _

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